


Lip Service

by Fyre



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Deal with a Devil, Traditions, Wherein a Nun makes a Devil's Compact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:02:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26085382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: When Hell commands Crowley to make a traditional demonic compact with a Nun, it doesn't go quite to plan.
Relationships: Crowley (Good Omens)/Mary Hodges | Sister Mary Loquacious
Comments: 40
Kudos: 70





	Lip Service

Crowley stared at the scroll in his hand, then back at Hastur. “You’re joking.”

The demon bared mossy teeth in an unpleasant smile. “I never joke.”

Fair point, Crowley thought, looking back at the scroll with its very neat cursive handwriting. A bit spidery. Old lady-hand-writing, that. Very formal. A proper invitation, marked with an unpleasantly familiar seal.

Somewhere in the gloomy hall, water dripped erratically on stone. He scanned the words again, something knotting up in his insides. Plop plop plop went the water.

“Bit old-fashioned,” he hedged. “I mean, is it really necessary–”

“A compact must be made,” Hastur snarled. “The terms were agreed upon centuries ago. You’re not getting to wiggle out of your obligations.”

Shit.

“But they’re… aren’t they _your_ special project?” he suggested, flashing a winning – and painfully hopeful – grin at Hastur. “I mean, you’ve done such a stellar job of organising the order and making them ready and everything. I’d hate to step on your toes.”

“I’ve dealt with my share. Ligur too.” Hastur’s black eyes glittered. “As Hell’s primary representative on earth, it’s about time you pulled your weight with our people.”

“Yeah,” Crowley agreed reluctantly, “but _Nuns_?”

“ _Satanic_ nuns,” Ligur corrected. He glanced over from the doorway, where he’d spent the entire conversation leaning against the frame, paring his nails with a long, silver knife. “Scared of a little novice, are you?”

“Course not!”

Hastur smiled ghoulishly at him. “Then it’s settled. You’ll attend and seal the compact and we’ll have another servant for our order.”

They prowled off, leaving Crowley with the scrap of lambskin (he hoped. Safer not to check sometimes) and an appointment he really didn’t want to keep. Worst thing was he didn’t have a leg to stand on. He’d got off easily in the whole Satanists thing, dodging then like whatsisface in the Matrix. Last time he’d been anywhere near them, it had been witches and a proper knees up, but _Nuns_ were something else.

He checked the date and the time.

“Right,” he said to the room and no one in particular. “ _Right_!.”

Three days later, he drove through the arched gates of the convent. Hospital. Thing. Building where they kept the Nuns. A few of them were scuttling about like outsized penguins and he could feel the excitement in the air.

An older one with a face like a dried-up prune approached him. “Can I help you, young man?”

Hastur had set up the order. Hastur had fixed the compacts with all these Nuns, including the little raisin in front of him. What a thought that was.

“Ngh.” He held up the scroll. “Got an invitation.”

The Nun blinked slowly at him. “We were expecting Master Hastur or the noble Ligur,” she said with surprising grace for someone saying _what a disappointment_.

He bared pointed teeth. “I am Hell’s legislator on earth, mortal,” he hissed, probably overegging the pudding a bit. Scare her enough to rethink. Scales bloomed across his throat and he even managed to flare a hood. Special trick that one.

Old bag wasn’t meant to gasp in awe. Bugger it all.

“Of course, Master… er… Master what?”

It was _so_ tempting to call himself Bater, but even if he was a demon, he had _some_ standards.

“Crowley,” he replied airily.

“Very well, Master Crowley!” She clasped her hands together. “The chamber has been prepared, if you will come with me.”

He followed reluctantly, dragging his heels, as she led him through the hallways. Wasn’t sulking. Definitely not. Brooding menacingly. Glowering around at every babbling cluster of penguins they came across. Which one was it, he wondered. Which of the blithering idiots would he have to deal with?

The wizened nun escorted him up the staircase, past a statue of a man wrestling a pair of snakes, and ushered him into a dimly-lit chamber. There were candelabra – of course there were sodding candelabra – and against the wall under the arched stained glass windows, there was something that looked a lot like a throne. A religious one, though. All hard wood and no comfy cushion. It had a well-worn footstool in front of it as well.

“If you’ll wait here, I’ll bring the novice along.”

“Right. Yeah. Good.” Crowley rocked on the balls of his feet. “Not very big, is it? I thought it would be an outdoor by fire pit kind of business.”

“In November? In this weather?” The Nun tutted and shook her head. “We may be Satanic, but the last thing we want is a bout of the flu going through the convent. Very hard to chatter when you have a stuffy nose.”

He dug his hands into his pockets. “And you’ll be attending?”

She looked affronted. “A compact is a very personal matter! We don’t need to have an audience.”

“Great!” He grinned as widely as he could. “Fantastic. Send her along and we’ll… er… get on with it. Compacting away.”

As soon as she strode out the room, he sagged down onto the hefty black chair.

“Shit!” he declared to the room at large. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”

At least if it was just one young Nun, he could handwave the whole thing. Convince her that times had changed and compacts could be done in a more… sensible and civilised way.

He kicked his leg over the arm of the chair, swinging it back and forth. Contract, maybe? Promise of eternal minutes on her phone? Did Nuns have phones? Especially chatty ones? Mind you, who would give a chatty Nun their phone number? That’d be like sending “welcome anytime” cards to the Mormons.

He waggled his foot back and for, spilling back over the other arm and staring at the ceiling.

What the hell was he meant to do with a _Nun_?

__________________________

“So it’s not Lord Hastur?”

“No,” Mother Superior said, “but he is Hell’s representative on earth, so you should treat him with all due respect.”

Mary beamed. “Yes, of course, Mother Superior.” She paused at the top of the stairs and smoothed down her frock and straightened her wimple. “Ooh, it’s very exciting, isn’t it? Me, meeting an actual demon Lord of Hell!”

“Yes,” Mother Superior said. “Very.” She continued on to a door that Mary had only been through when she was on cleaning duty. The Chamber was very important, kept for Compacts and – if the other younger Nuns were right – sneaky little brandies. “Now, you know what you have to do?”

“Yes, Mother Superior! I read all the instructional pamphlets.” Mary had made sure to check all the details, just in case. After all, you didn’t want to do anything wrong and misinterpret and annoy a Lord of Hell. “Some of them had illustrations and everything.”

“Of course they did.” Mother Superior sighed, then rapped on the door and opened it. “Master Crowley, I present Mary.”

Mary hurried into the room, bobbing into a deep curtsey, eyes down and respectful, just like the books said. The door slammed behind her and she couldn’t help raising her eyes and blinked.

“Blimey!”

The demon Lord of Hell was draped over the throne like a cat, all long black-clad limbs and blood-red hair and dark glasses hiding his eyes. He unfurled from the throne onto the floor, then straightened up as if he’d never used a human form before, all lean and mysterious and slinky.

“Ooh,” said Mary appreciatively.

He bared his teeth at her. “So you’re the novice, are you?”

“I am!” She beamed up at him. “Third generation of Satanists. Mum and dad are proper chuffed that I’m finally making my compact.” She bobbed in another curtsey just in case. “Very honoured to meet you, Master Crowley.”

He stared at her for a long time and slowly sat back down on the throne in silence.

Naturally, Mary obligingly filled it. “Thing is, mum never thought I’d actually be able to be a Nun. Said I wasn’t bright enough, but I always said the important thing wasn’t how bright you are. They really just need you to work hard and well and chatter as much as you can. Oh and do what you’re told. They like it when you do what you’re told, as long as it’s the right thing and not the good thing. Which, when you think about it is a bit of an oxymoron, isn’t it?” She laughed. “I learned about them in English. At school, I mean.”

“Right. And you know what you’ve got to do, to make this compact?” he eventually asked.

“Mm-hm.” She held up a hand, ticking off the list. “You have to convene with the devil and his kin. You have to make a vow of fealty and obedience. And then you have to seal the compact with a–”

“And you wouldn’t just… I dunno… like a fancy car or something?”

She stared at him. “Are you testing me?” she inquired, worried. “No one said there would be any testing.”

To her surprise, the demon lord ran his hand over his face. “No,” he sighed, pushing himself back to his feet. “Fine. Let’s just get it over with.” He stretched out a hand, pressing it to her forehead. “Do you swear fealty and obedience to our dark Lord, blah blah blah?”

“I swear on my Nan’s soul.”

“Your…” He squinted at her. “Didn’t you say you were third generation Satanist.”

“Yeah.” She grinned at him. “She’s burning in Hell already.”

“Course she is,” Master Crowley mumbled. “Right. The… the compact, then.” He glanced at the throne, frowning, then back at her. “Er…”

“You kneel on the throne,” she said helpfully. The illustrations had been very clear about that. The footstool in front of the throne was indented with the knees of generations. “There are knobbly bits at the top to hold on to.”

“I know that,” he snapped, climbing onto the throne and kneeling. He tilted his face up into the light from the windows, dappling in him red and gold. He was very pretty, insofar as demons were pretty. Definitely much prettier than Lord Hastur. “Get on with it.”

For once, Mary lost her words. “Um.”

“What?” he demanded, looking over his shoulder.

“Your… do you want me to pull your trousers down?” she inquired sheepishly. “Or do you want to do it? I– the books didn’t say.”

It must’ve been the light through the window because it almost looked like he went red.

“Oh for Satan’s sake,” he grumbled, wrenching his hands off the top of the throne and shoving his trousers down around his thighs. He pulled off his flared jacket for good measure, lobbing it on the floor. “There. Is that better, oh Novice Mary? Clear access?”

And there it was, his bum, small and pert. “Ooh, yes, thank you Master Crowley!” She gathered up her skirts and dropped to her knees on the footstool between his spread calves. “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you’ve got a lovely bottom.”

The throne creaked. “I do?”

She pressed her hands to it, admiring the smatter of freckles. “Very,” she confirmed, squeezing his round little cheeks. “Can I tell you something, Master Crowley?”

“Am I going to be able to stop you?” He didn’t sound quite so sharp now.

“I’m glad it’s you,” she confided. “You’re much better looking that Lord Hastur.”

“Yeah?” He even sounded a bit pleased. Smug even.

“Oh yes.” She rubbed her thumb up the line of his backside. He shivered a bit. “It’s probably shallow of me, but sometimes, you have to enjoy the pretty things. Just cos I’m a Nun doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate if someone is good-looking or what have you.” She froze. “Don’t tell Lord Hastur?”

He tilted his head to look over his shoulder. “It’ll be our Compact, won’t it?” he said, one golden eye visible over the edge of his glasses.

Oh! Yes! Of course!

“Yes!” she exclaimed, then parted his buttocks and kissed him on the arse, just like the instructions said.

Master Crowley’s backside tensed under her hands and she probably shouldn’t have, but in for a penny and in for a pound. If she was going to make a compact, she was bloody well going to make sure he didn’t forget about it, so she flattened her tongue and licked up from his knob to the top of his crack.

Master Crowley almost slammed into the back of the throne. “Fuck!” he croaked.

Mary hesitated, but he was still holding onto the throne and swaying back towards her, so that had to be a good sign. She dipped her head and licked again, sliding her hands to squeeze his hips and pull him back against her mouth. He let her as well, nudging his knees a bit wider. Spreading himself open, giving her room to work.

“Ooh,” she gasped. “Thank you, Master Crowley.”

And as she shoved her tongue into his arse, Master Crowley said “Ngk!”

_____________________________

Bit out of hand. All a bit out of hand.

Crowley made a gargled sound as the novice’s hot little mouth gave him a proper seeing to.

Nun she might be, but she licked like she knew exactly what she was doing, and sweet Satan’s tits, it had been a long time since anyone had said he was good-looking or wanted to touch him like that.

Kiss on the arse, that was what it was meant to be. Usual. Traditional. Exactly what witches and Satanists had been doing for centuries. And technically, _technically_ , he could argue that’s all it was. Just… a bit of French kissing instead. Very enthusiastically.

Enthusiastically enough, it turned out, to not only make his cock pop out, but made it pop out upstanding and raring to go.

“Oi!” he croaked. “Mary!”

“Mmf?”

He dropped one hand to cover hers on his buttock and dragged it around over his hip. She squeaked in surprise, lifting her head, when her fingers brushed his knob. He glanced back at her and she licked her plush, spit-smeared lips.

“This isn’t in the instructional pamphlet,” she said, eyes wide.

“Nor is kissing with tongues,” he pointed out with a wry grin. “Whose gonna know?”

She stared up at him and the surge of greed and lust in her was enough to make him dizzy. She plunged her head back down, her tongue boldly going where no Nun had gone before and her hand wrapping – inexpertly – around his cock.

He closed his hand around hers, guiding her into a rhythm and groaned as she rubbed her other thumb over his ravished arsehole.

“You taste nice,” she informed him and made him squeak in surprise when she wiggled the tip of her finger into him.

“Oi!”

“No fingers?”

“S’a mouth-to-arse arrangement we have here,” he retorted, subsiding with pleasure as she resumed her licking, leaning forward to brace his forehead on his arm on the back of the throne.

Mistake that. Gave her even more access and he almost shot off the damn chair when she sucked his bollocks into her mouth, the heat and squeeze of her hand almost making him embarrass himself.

“Fuck,” he groaned, gripping the high back of the throne til the wood splintered and creaked.

And then she made it worse and sucked the bit between his balls and crack and he damn near ricocheted off the chair all over again.

He whipped himself around snake-fast, sinking to sit, ignoring the wet squelch of his slick arse on the wooden chair. The Nun stared up at him, closer to eye level now, then down at the jutting red cock in front of her.

“Gosh.”

“Since you seem to like using your mouth,” he said, gesturing to it.

Her eyes lit up. “This is an extra special Compact, isn’t it?”

“Bit of fun as well, eh?” he offered.

And like that, a hot, wet sucking mouth was on him and Lucifer’s balls, he couldn’t help rutting up into it. Bit amateurish, but she _was_ a sodding Nun. He closed his hand over the top of her wimple, urging her downwards.

She dragged her head off, panting, to catch her breath, strings of saliva dripping from her lips. “Always wanted to try this,” she said, grinning. “Never thought I’d get the chance. Used to practise on a cucumber.”

Crowley burst out laughing. “Yeah?”

She shrugged, flexing her jaw. “They used them to show us how condoms worked. Thought I’d cut out the middle-man.” She lunged back down and sucked so hard Crowley saw stars, his fingers clenching in her wimple as he came in that hot, demanding mouth and she kept right on swallowing around him until he was done.

“Fuck!”

“Want to try that too,” she said, lifting her head up again. And there was nothing remotely subtle about the speculative look in her eye as she sucked gently on his softening cock.

Crowley stared at her, at the cum and string of spit shimmering between her lips and the head of his cock. “You want to be shagged by a demon, is that what you’re trying very hard not to say?”

“I’ve never done a Compact before,” she pointed out. “Might be part of it.” She tongued at the head of his cock again, then swallowed him down again. “Hypothetically, you’re an evil demon who could do whatever he wanted with me and what with me being an innocent little virgin and everything, I really can’t be a very good Satanic nun–”

“You’re a menace,” Crowley snorted in amusement. Why not? Why not indulge an enthusiastic virgin who’d given him such a thorough tending to? He pushed her back enough so he could stand up, shuffling sideways. “Up you go. You know the position.”

“On…” She stared at him. “On the throne?”

“Am I or am I not in charge?”

She gave him a giddy look. “Right you are, Master Crowley.” She scrambled up onto her knees on the throne, facing the back, and wrapping her hands around the hand-grips.

“Shouldn’t you’ve dropped your knickers?” he inquired, hauling up her skirts.

“Don’t wear any,” she responded cheekily. “We’re Nuns. Knickers are a luxury.”

He hoisted up her skirts and true enough, nothing but warm brown skin under them. He cupped a hand between her legs and she shuddered, already sodden, the skin of her thighs shining and wet. He pressed against her back to murmur in her ear. “Lean forward, _virgin_.”

The wanton sound she made was a pitch-perfect tone of lust and greed, as he went to his knees on the cushion, pushed his head between her thighs, and made good on their compact.

Gentle licks to start with, feeling her shudder and the tension in her body as she pushed her hips back towards him. Fluttering flickers of tongue to clit, teasing her just a little, long slow drags along plush, desire-swollen labia.

Mary moaned, shifting and wiggling. “Ooh, that feels nice and… I-I like that bit! N-no! There! Yes! Ooh, that’s lovely! How’d’you do that with your – oh Saints and Demons preserve us!” And grinning, Crowley withdrew just a little, then plunged his mouth close, elongating his tongue and burrowing it inside her.

Mary damned near shot off the chair.

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh Lord have mercy what-what the hell–”

Crowley dragged his tongue out of her. “Demon,” he purred, lashing her thighs with it. She gave a heaving moan, stinking of raw, unbridled lust. This time when he licked all the way into her, thrusting surely, he added his hand, stroking as she babbled herself through an orgasm that left him soaked from nose to throat.

The novice sagged, gasping, against the back of the throne.

Crowley didn’t give her a moment to catch her breath, slotting himself between her splayed legs, pinning her skirts up against her shoulder with one hand. “We have a Compact, Novice Mary,” he murmured, wet and sticky against her ear. “Don’t cross us.”

“N-no, of course not, M-Master Crowley!”

He steadied her hip with a hand and pushed into her, rising up as she – on shaking legs – sank down to meet him. “Say that again,” he breathed, flickering his forked tongue close to her ear. “Now that you’re bound to us.”

“M-Master–” Her voice cracked as he rocked into her. “Oh! Oh, Hell!”

“Again,” he growled, rocking them into a ruthless rhythm, his fee hand slipping over her hip, rubbing at her clit, making her squirm and writhe.

“Yes, Master Crowley, yes! Ooh, that’s lovely! That! Oh gosh! I want– I think– oh hell!”

He grinned against her throat as he pushed her towards another orgasm. “You don’t shut up, do you?”

“Never!” she groaned, one hand clutching at his wrist, pushing his fingers harder against her. “’Cept for ping-pong!”

He snorted against her throat. “Is that a euphemism?”

“No!” She squeaked as he pinched her clit. “Ping-pong! With balls! And paddles!”

Lucifer’s tits, she was ridiculous. And yet… and yet, he couldn’t help grinning. “Could still be a euphemism,” he pointed out. “Now, hold on, Novice.”

“What do–”

She squealed again as he slammed her up against the back of the throne and plunged into her, harder and faster, hand fluttering across her clit, reducing her babble to panted little whines and keens and a litany of fucks as he burrowed into her hot wet body, the tightness of it clamping around him. He yanked her up higher and – hiking up her skirts – came all over her arse, thighs and quim.

Mary sagged in his grip, apparently speechless for the first time since she’d been lobbed into the room with him. “Ngh.”

“Mm.” He lowered her down onto the seat with a moist squish, and redressed himself with a snap of his fingers. “We have a compact.”

Slumped down in the chair, she dragged up her skirts and peered down at the mess he’d made of her. A beaming smile broke across her face. “Mum’s going to be so proud of me. First Satanist in the family to actually shag a demon Lord of Hell.”

He gave her an amused look. “I’m not actually a Lord of anything.”

Mary’s face fell. “Oh?”

“Still a demon, though.” He made a show of licking cum from his fingers, tongue snaking around each one, and the blush blossomed cross her face. “Good enough?” He frowned. “Wait. Bad enough?”

The thoroughly ruined Nun grinned. “Bit of both.” With visible effort, she tottered to her feet and bobbed in another curtsey. “Thank you, Master Crowley.”

He waved a hand. “Don’t mention it,” he said as he headed to the door, then paused, pointing back at her, lowering his voice to a growl. “And I mean that. Not a word to anyone. _Our_ Compact, remember?”

Still blushing, she nodded.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun historical note: in days of yore, it was said that to demonstrate their loyalty to the devil, witches had to kiss the him or his demons on the arse - [the Osculum Infame](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Osculum_infame). I, of course, love history and had to use this :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Lip Service](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26144623) by [Djapchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djapchan/pseuds/Djapchan)




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